Slow realizations
by Pentakill Lux
Summary: A gathering of seperate Castiel/Dean oneshots, some AU, some AT. Mostly just a bunch of angsty bromance/friendship fics, but Destiel if you squint.  The stories dosn't rely on eachother and is meant to be read individually.
1. Winning

**Notice**: This is a gathering of Oneshots about Castiel and Dean. They do not depend on eachother and is meant to be read individually.

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><p><strong><strong>Title: Winning<strong>**

**Disclaimer**:

All the charactors are lent,

and I do not own a single cent.

So please don't sue,

I'm begging you!

**Summary**: Dean stops running, ready to face Castiel atleast. Or is he?

**Warning**: Spoilers for 6.22. Rating for language.

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><p>The twilight air is cold, seeping through his jacket and his shirt and his skin and his goddamn soul. So cold that Dean knows it isn't natural. It isn't winter. The earth shouldn't be glittering with frost and the air shouldn't be blurred with icicles, burning his throat at every breath.<p>

But it is.

Dean raises his eyes, just barely, to note that he isn't alone anymore. He didn't expect to be. The Creature stands at a safe range. Safe, at least, if it had been any other monster. Safe if the thing in front of him couldn't just snap it's fingers and turn him into pulp, with no effort. But Dean doesn't categorize the distance as safe because he can't be harmed. It's safe because from this distance he can't see those eyes. Cold and cruel and heartless and soulless and so goddamn blue and beautiful that Dean know his heart would break if he was able to see them from here.

"You stopped running." The Creature says, voice low, soft, a deep rumble somewhere below all the lack of emotion.

Dean can feel his chest tightening, a slow burning rage building again. He had been sure he could do this. He had mentally prepared, he had even meditated as Sam had suggested. He had told himself a million times that this was just another bug that needed to be squashed. He had been so wrong, so fucking wrong.

"This needs to end, Castiel." Dean forces himself to use the full name. This isn't Cas, not their Cas, not his Cas.

The Creature smiles, a screwed little smile, and that moment it isn't hard for Dean to force his head around the fact that this isn't Cas. Cas would never smile like that.

"You think you can stop me, Dean? You think you have a chance – against God?" The Creature starts to move, not closer, but circling Dean.

Dean doesn't turn to follow The Creature with his eyes as it moves around him. When it disappear behind Dean's back he stands his ground, and it soon reappear to his other side, moving slowly, eyebrows raised in amusement.

Dean dosn't mean to act unafraid, dosn't mean for the gesture of _not_ turning to be taunting and indifferent. He just know that it dosn't matter if he looks at The Creature. This isn't something you need to keep your eyes glued to like other monsters. Because it's not just in the shape of Castiel, of Jimmy. It's in the slowly falling snow, it's in the wind, whipping Dean's face, playing with his jacket, and it's in the shadows that sneak up around them. This Creature is everywhere, so it dosn't matter where Dean looks.

So he chooses not to look at Castiel's form, smaller without the trench coat, just the slick black suit, black shirt, black tie.

"You made so many rules for yourself, Dean. What's good and what's evil. What to feel and how to act. You fought so hard for free will, and yet you never used yours. You never left your path, not once." The Creature stops circling, closer now after a few laps. Dean can see the eyes, boring into his and swallows.

"Just because you can do what ever you want..." Dean starts, echoing a past conversation they have both almost forgotten.

"I know, I know." The Creature says in Castiel's deep, overbearing voice, but there is a bitter after burn to it. "Another one of your rules."

And at that, Dean feel the wind picking up, feel the shadows pressing closer, almost drowning him. But he stands his ground, still. A gust of wind rush over his face, actually leaving a gash on his cheek, blood tickling from the wound. Dean's eyes widen.

Suddenly he is back to that day, years ago when he had stared into Lucifer's eyes – Sam's eyes turned cold and hard. He is standing in that graveyard, with nothing to save him, nothing left, barely even a slither of hope, because really, how could this ever have a happily ever after. And Lucifer – Sam – lashes out and beats Dean, with so little effort , into a bloody mess.

Another sharp pain brings Dean back, another gust of wind lashing out and cutting through his skin. Castiel's eyes are shining now, no longer cold, but burning, full of rage.

"How could you do this to me, Dean?" Castiel suddenly asks, his voice is close, everywhere, in the wind, rumbling in Dean's head, and the words are dripping with blame and pain. "How could you push me away, betray me and turn me into _this_?"

And Dean is confused. Of all the things he though Castiel would throw in his face, this wasn't one of them.

"How could I? How could... Cas, "And Dean uses the name, the forbidden name, and he can't keep the begging tone out of his voice. "You went down this path, you _chose_ this."

Another sharp gust of wind, another cut into the soft skin, his throat this time. Deeper.

"Because I wanted to save you Dean. All I ever wanted, all I was ever _meant_ to do, was to save you. I sacrificed everything I was, gave up everything for you. And when I _begged_, you wouldn't stand by my side!" Castiel's voice is fierce, his eyes hard and brutal.

"I couldn't!" Dean burst out, stepping closer to Castiel as another cut is lashed into his face. "You were wrong. You were wrong, you stupid son of a bitch! You picked the easy way out like a goddamn coward!" And then Dean is looking into Castiel's eyes, two oceans of blue pain, so close. "We were your friends. We were your family. We would have done anything you asked, but you never asked a god damn thing. You just up and left. Left me. And I'm sorry Cas, that we didn't meet your standards, I'm sorry that being human was so terrible for you that you had to drink you god damn brains out."

Dean looks at The Creature, wonders if Castiel knows and remembers that glimpse of the future. Dean sure as hell does. And he continues his ranting, even if he isn't sure any of it is reaching into The Creature, into the little shimmer of Cas, he is sure is still inthere.

"I'm sorry that I didn't teach you what human love is and how fucking far it can stretch! Then you might have known that both Sam and I were willing to die for you, willing to lay down everything for you, because that's what family does. " Dean takes the last step, the one that brings him so close to The Creature, that he can feel the slow pulsing aura of power that surrounds Castiel's body. His voice is low and gruff when he continues. "But you cannot blame us for _this_, Cas. You cannot blame us for your choices. Free will is a bitch. It's brutal and unforgiving and it fucks you up if it gets the chance. But you can't blame others for what you chose to do with it."

The wind has picked up again, a full blown tornado rages around them, swirling the world into a blurry mess, the two of them standing inches apart in the eye of it all.

Castiel, The Creature, is flaring eyes, radiating power and clenched fists, but Dean doesn't care. Because somewhere in there is Cas. Cas scared of a prostitute named Chastity. Cas yelling Dean's name in a Diner, afraid that Dean is hurt. Cas leaning against a car, bleeding, so weak and broken that he can't stand on his feet. Cas slamming him into a wall, angry that Dean is willing to give up and give in. Cas smiling, a confused but genuine smile, looking into Dean's eyes. And if there is anything in the world worth saving now, it's that Cas.

So Dean cover the distance and pull Castiel into him in a tight, warm hug. And Dean knows he might be killed for this. He knows that The Creature can snap it's fingers anytime it decides that Dean is out of line. But Dean dosn't care. Because if there is anything he would die for it's his family.

As a light starts to steam out of The Creature and the storm escalates around them, Dean just hold on tighter. He rests his chin gently on Castiel's shoulder and tries to keep the tremble out of his voice, as he press his lips to Castiel's ear and whisper that he loves him. And then the storm is earsplitting and the light is blinding and the night explodes.

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><p>AN: English is my second language and I don't have a beta. As a consequence some grammar mistakes and misspelling will occure.

Omg I'm so mean I'm not ganna say how it all ends. You can chose the ending you want.

I really hope you enjoyed - **Please use the review option!**


	2. I guess I need you

**Disclaimer: **All the characters are lent,

and I do not own a single cent.

So please don't sue,

I'm begging you!

**Summary**: Dean's pov on The End, future Dean, that is.

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><p>At that moment Dean wanted to hit himself very damn hard. He had forgotten, if he had in fact ever truly realized, how annoyingly cocky and dauntless he had been, not to mention that infuriating spark in his eyes, like he truly believed that things could work out. No, Dean didn't like this younger, hopeful version of himself that had suddenly forced his way into their relatively functioning lives.<p>

It doesn't make things any better that Castiel is currently still slightly spaced out, even though Dean had ordered him to get straight for this meeting. Because Castiel tweeked out is not always a safe thing to have around. When he's high Castiel doesn't always care much what he say or do, which is really the core of Dean's worries now, even if he has the most important hunt of his life right around the corner, and should be directing all his fucking focus on that. But he can't, because he's too damn scared tweeked out Cas is gonna slip and say something, some stupid, cruel comment about Dean's abilities to lead being as bad as his abilities in bed, or some shit like that.

Dean knows his former self is here to understand the consequences of his choices and actions, and Dean, for the life of him, doesn't want himself to go back to the past knowing what had happened – or rather, what would happen – between himself and Cas. Subconsciously, Dean knew it was because he didn't want to risk Past-Dean freaking out and shying away from Cas, because if there was one thing about this whole God damned shithole of a future Dean didn't want to change, it was what he shared – or had shared – with Cas. Consciously, however, Dean knew, that if Past-Dean somehow managed to change the future, he and Cas would never have the chance or the need to find each other the way they had, so there would be no reason to bother himself with this particular fact.

What happens in the future, stays in the future, Dean thought, and faintly amused himself.

And if there hadn't really been that many polite and caring words between Dean and Cas for the past few months, that was fine, because it was fucking great while it lasted and they were all gonna die tomorrow anyway, in a fucking blaze of glory, and he didn't want to spend his last night on earth regretting or having to explain why he had found the desperate need to fuck Cas in the first place, especially not to himself.

Castiel managed to get through the meeting without saying anything too incriminating, just a vague comment about liking Past-Dean, which was true in itself, and didn't need to be interpreted at all, but somehow Dean knew, just _knew_, that at the end of that meeting Past-Dean had figured it out anyway. Of cause he had, he was god damn smart and observant and it wasn't like it had come as a great shock to anyone else when it first happened, because the thing between them had been so fucking obvious ever since Castiel first broke ranks for Dean and went and got himself smited by Rafael.

Past-Dean went and camped out in Cas' hut after the meeting, and of cause he would, because Dean would always gravitate towards Castiel, no matter if they weren't even from the same fucking time zone.

But he didn't have to worry about Castiel fucking up, because Cas knew which Dean he belonged to, and even if they hadn't really been on the best terms lately, Cas had always been loyal to a fault and had always had Dean's back and Dean trusted him with his life, even when the ex-angel was high and drunk. And even if they hadn't even exchanged as much as a handshake in months, Cas still came to Dean's hut that night, because that's how they were, that's _what_ they were, and this was their last night on earth and fuck it if they were gonna spend it apart from one another.

And Cas was needy and warm and a little rough, just how Dean loved him. And Dean was fucking thrilled when Cas proved, once again, that he was the only frigging creature on earth that could unravel Dean like that, break him in a way that felt so good and so right. And Castiel was the only one who could and the only one who was _allowed_ to break Dean like that, because he had been the one to put him back together to begin with. And when Dean came apart, Cas wasn't far behind, because that's how they worked, they were so damn in tuned to one another and Dean, riding his own orgasm, looked deep into Castiel's eyes, pupils blown wide, and if Dean thought that Cas was still a little bit angel at that moment, well it wasn't his fault.

"I think you should stay home, with Chuck." Dean said after they had come down, his voice firm and quiet.

Castiel looked at him, confusion turning into anger in seconds. "I'm not leaving your side for a god damn minute." Castiel swore, and it sounded pretty damn final, but Dean could play that game too.

"People will need someone, someone to look up to and gather around once this is over." He argued, voice calm.

"And you think that should be me? The junkie ex-angel ?" Castiel snorted. "Dean, you know I need you. If you're not here, I couldn't even get up in the morning, much less _lead_ anyone."

"I know, Cas." Dean said, "But I don't want you there tomorrow."

"Dean, you lead, I follow. And for once I know where we're going. And it's fine, it really is." Castiel didn't say any more than that, and when Dean tried to pursue the subject, Castiel silenced him, with a "Shut the fuck up and kiss me!" And Dean did.

Dean had decided that they were gonna drive out just around midnight, because they had a good six hours' drive in front of them. Again Past-Dean found his way into Castiel's car, being uncomfortable around the most of the other people and really uncomfortable around his future self. But of cause he would always trust Castiel, because that's what Dean did. It was just that them riding alone together was an outstandingly bad idea, because Cas was in a blunt mood and not a little drunk and if Dean knew Cas at all, high too.

And then there were the fact that Cas still smelled of Dean, and that Past-Dean was bound to notice, sitting so close. Funny how Dean had always liked the way Cas smelled like him after sex, but now, this one time, it would bother him.

They took a break by the cars when they arrived, sitting in small groups and sharing old supplies of homemade booze and a small amount of food. Dean tried not to let his eyes drift to his former self, because damn if everything about him didn't piss Dean off. Especially the way he would sometimes laugh at something Cas would say. It wasn't Dean's fault that he had the whole human race to think about and the fate of the planet too, and that he didn't really relax enough to find Castiel funny when he was high. Admittedly he was a lot more fun, than the Cas Past-Dean was used to, and Dean would have laughed, he totally would have, but wasn't it just the worst timing in the whole universe, that Cas had removed the stick up his ass, just as Dean suddenly had a whole camp full of people to worry about and dealing with loosing Sammy as well?

The way in through the city was completely cleared; every road, every ally, every open space utterly empty. And it should freak Dean the hell out, but it didn't, because he had already known. He knew this would always be the final stand and what ever happened today Dean would die saving the world like he always wanted to, because even if he made it and he killed Lucifer and the world would be right again, it would never be right for Dean, because Sam was dead, and Dean had been on a slow-falling slope to dying ever since Sam said Yes, and the only reason why he hadn't already given up, was because it was Dean's job to clean up after Sam, and Dean would clean this one up as well, and then he would be done, for good.

And the weird thing was that it seemed like everyone on this hunt knew that this was it, the last kamikaze run. And no one seemed to mind, because everyone was tired, used and broken and even if the world was saved they didn't want to live in it, because they had lived in a god damn paradise compared to this and they wanted to return to paradise again, not stay in this broken world.

The only one who couldn't wrap his head around this fact was of cause Dean, Past-Dean that is. He's still John's kid and Mary's boy and Sam's brother and fuck if that shouldn't bother Dean, but it did, because he would achieve nothing like that, nothing until he toughened the fuck up and became a soldier. And Dean really enjoyed knocking himself out, finally getting to punch him in the face after itching to for long enough.

Dean shared a last moment of eyes interlocking with Cas, thinking for a brief moment that the ex-Angel seemed to know something that Dean didn't, but for all he knew, Cas did. He used to be a frigging Angel of the Lord, and Cas used to have that look in his eyes a lot, back before he went mortal, but Dean hadn't seen it since then, and it freaked him out to find it there, now. And as the group walked away, guns at the ready, Dean couldn't help but look after them until they were out of sight, and he told himself that it was that strange look on Cas' face that made him track the dark-haired man with his eyes, of cause it was.

He found Lucifer without any real problems. He was alone of cause, he hated the Croats as much as he hated the demons, and he didn't exactly keep them as company. Instead he had found the remains of a rose garden, standing there in his white suit, in Sam's body, surrounded by roses, and a few patches of lavender and rosemary, almost consumed by wild, tall grass. It looked peaceful. Dean fired the gun three times, one to his heart and two to his head. The impact made Lucifer crumple to the ground but he didn't die. Of cause he didn't die, because Lucifer wasn't a demon, he was an archangel, and Castiel had known this, or at least suspected it and Dean hadn't listened, because he didn't want to.

A flick of Sam's wrist and Lucifer, the devil, had Dean tossing in pain at his feet. And then Dean heard footsteps, running towards him, and God he wished it was someone who could help, except no one could help. And then he saw his own shocked face looking at him, through a daze as Sam's foot broke his neck, with just the tiniest effort.

And then the world turned dark, and Dean recognized the calm feeling he connected to being dead, if that wasn't the freakiest thought on the planet, that Dean would somehow be used to being dead by now. And then the calm was gone and a sharp pain lashed through his neck, as it was forced back into place and then the darkness disappeared, only to be replaced by a confusing brightness and two shining orbs of concerned blue looking down at him.

"Dean?" Castiel's voice was rough, pained. "Dean, wake up!"

Dean was so confused that for a second he wondered if everything had been a dream, that he and Cas was still back in bed in Camp Chitaqua. But then he saw that he wasn't in his bedroom and he noticed the yellow brick walls of the sanitarium behind Cas' face.

"Cas, what the hell?" he croaked, his voice coarse and strained, like it hadn't been used for weeks. "What the hell?" he asked again, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"Just relax, please Dean. Don't get up too fast." Castiel helped him to a sitting position, but rested a firm hand against Dean's shoulder, making sure he didn't try to stand.

"Cas, it's fine, I'm fine. Just tell me what the hell happened, would you please?" Dean thought back. Yes he was definitely dead. Lucifer had killed him, Lucifer in Sam's skin. _Sammy_. But now he was here, not dead, and Dean thought for a moment that God had returned and put everything right. But then he looked at Cas and knew that God hadn't done a damn thing, because no way would Castiel look so sad to the core if God had returned.

Castiel's eyes darted to the ground a few feet away, a few small pieces of something that looked like glass but could be diamonds for all Dean knew, lie scattered on the dirt. "I'm sorry I lied to you." Castiel whispered in a soft voice, but Dean didn't hear any remorse in it. "I'll explain, I will, but we need to get out of here first, and we can't get to the cars because they are swarming with Croats. So you'll need to walk, but you have to take it slow, okay. Just lean on me for support."

Dean wanted to tell Cas to shut the fuck up with his concerned nurse gibberish and that he could walk fine, thank you, but when he got to his feet, the whole world was swaying and the ground was trying to make him trip and stumble, and Dean thought this was a pretty ungrateful world that would behave like this, giving that Dean had just died trying to save it.

Dean tried to keep the questions out of his head, to let his mind go blank and just let Cas lead him, and it was okay for a short time, just stumbling along, letting Cas support him, but the he started to notice. And then he couldn't understand how he hadn't noticed before.

"Cas, you're an Angel again!" he exclaimed, before he could stop himself, because damn if those words weren't the most dangerous ones to say at this day and age. He just couldn't stop himself, completely baffled by the faint aura around Castiel and the metallic gleam just behind his eyes, just below his skin, something you couldn't see unless you were looking real damn hard at him, which Dean always were.

"Not really, not that much anyway. I'll explain later, I need to get us to safety." And Dean let himself be dragged along for another long stretch of time until Cas was satisfied with the distance and found an old barn they could rest in.

Dean didn't know how to ask again, how to start asking for an explanation to _this_. So instead he just starred at Cas, waiting. Because in all fairness he had already asked, and been promised an answer and now he was pretty sure it was okay just to wait for that to happen.

"I'm sorry I lied to you." Cas just said again, after a long time with an odd silence between them. "I want to explain, but you need to hear me out and not start yelling at me, okay? I'll stop talking if you do."

Dean nodded and found Castiel's eyes, the ones he thought he'd never see again.

"Do you remember the time when I came to you in a dream and asked you to meet me, and then when you arrived you found Jimmy instead?" Castiel started slow, as if trying to decide if every bit of information was important, it seemed however like he was gonna come clean now, and tell everything. "You remember I told you then I'd learned my lesson while I was in heaven?"

Dean nodded and started to get a feeling that Cas was about to tell him something he should have asked about a long time ago, and that all of this might have gone different if he had.

"Well, I did. Zacharias showed me this. He brought me to this future. I saw me _now_, everything I would become, everything I'd lose, if I continued to stay connected to you. I've never been so scared in all eternity. And then in the end you still managed to convince me to follow you, to rebel for you, even though I knew from that day forward what I would become."

Dean was pulled out of his comfortable trance-like state when Castiel dragged his eyes away from Dean's, clearly unable to bear the connection any longer. As so many times before, however, Dean tilted his head and forced Cas' eyes back to his.

"When it broke, when Sam said yes, you were so out of it. You didn't notice, didn't pay me any attention, and I knew it was the right time. I tore out most of my Grace."

For the first time Dean speak. "You tore out your Grace?"

"Most of it, yes. I knew I would lose my power over time anyway, there were no reason to go through all the slow fading, so I cut it out and hid it away and saved it for now, for this. It was just enough, it was already weakened when I ripped it out, and the fact that it wasn't whole made it even weaker, but I had to keep a part inside me, to be able to sustain this vessel and my knowledge of who I was."

Dean watches Castiel, surveys his face, the honestly there, the happiness of finally getting to say it, this festering lie that has made him a deceiver and a fraud for years. And Dean could feel that Cas was scared too, scared that Dean would get mad, be angry and blame him for everything, but Dean didn't feel mad, he wasn't angry, and fuck it if he was going to turn Castiel away now. Not now, not ever.

"So you broke the little vial and became an Angel again?" Dean asks, with a soft voice that seems to startle Castiel. "And the you wasted all your juice on bringing me back?" Dean smiles and as a result Castiel smiles, even if he isn't sure why they are smiling now, here in the middle of this broken world, when nothing is fixed and nothing is even slightly close to being okay.

"Why would you do that, Cas? How can you be that stupid?" But there is no blame in Dean's voice, no anger.

Castiel's smile grows bigger, more sincere. "I guess I need you." Is all he says, and damn if being needed isn't the only reason Dean needs to fight to live. Especially when it's Cas that needs him

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><p>AN: I know I upped the swearing on this quite a bit, but it is Dean's pov and I think his internal monolouge is a bit rougher.


	3. What do you want from me

Disclaimer: I don't make any claims.

A/N: Short angsty thing that popped into my head. It ends up here until I might have the time to fit it into a real story someday.

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><p>Castiel doesn't understand what Dean wants from him. Or well, he understands <em>what<em> he wants, he's not unintelligent. He just doesn't understand _how_ Dean can ask it of him.

Of cause Dean never really asked. He just assumed. And Castiel doesn't know why that lack of communication can be so vital and disturbing and horrible, but somehow it is. Once again Dean's assumptions piss Castiel off.

Dean's hands are on Castiel's vessel and his touch is soft, hesitant but still unyielding in a way that makes Castiel conclude that Dean really wants this bad, but isn't sure Castiel wants the same. And he would be right to be uncertain, because Castiel isn't even sure himself. In fact, if Dean _had_ taken the time to ask, Castiel is not sure he could have answered, because he wouldn't know if he would want this or not. Now all he knows is that Dean is silently asking something more of Castiel. And Castiel is not sure he can give it.

Can. Should. Want to. The concepts blur out and become indifferent. Certainly Castiel can. It's just a matter of not stopping Dean and that would be so easy, enjoyable even. Should he then, let this happen? It's a matter of morality, Castiel is aware. Humans and Angels are not meant to be physical. Angels are not meant to be physical. They last eternally and do not need to reproduce. Not that physical interaction with Dean would lead to reproduction, but that point is mute. When humans engage in sexual behavior it's to give and take, and Castiel doesn't think he has anymore to give at this point. Which leads him to the "want to".

Castiel has never denied Dean anything; he has never felt the need to. In fact he has been more than willing to give all he had to Dean in the past. But things change. Castiel has been around for enough millennia, through enough of the creation and the evolution and the downfall of his Father's masterpiece to know that things change. But unlike evolution the changes in Castiel's personality, the changes in the way his Grace pulse and shines, especially when Dean is around, the way love and loyalty is no longer synonyms with faith and obedience, well, unlike evolution these changes has happened so fast. Unbearably fast. And between going from not changing at all to an internal revolution of biblical proportions and Dean suddenly deciding to introduce every emotion known to man onto the Angel, Castiel is no longer sure he wants to risk it.

Castiel is scared that he is losing the last shreds of Angel he has left and feels suddenly too small to give all the things Dean wants from him, and this makes "can", "should" and "want to" irrelevant.

So when Dean hesitantly rest his cheek against Castiel's and the Angel can feel his warm breath on his neck, and hands slowly moving under his clothes to get to skin, Castiel allows himself a whimper of fear before he vanishes, leaving Dean confused and hurt and ashamed.


	4. My Heaven

**Notice**: This is a gathering of Oneshots about Castiel and Dean. They do not depend on eachother and is meant to be read individually.

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><p><strong>Summery<strong>: When Dean died all of his happiest memories were activated in Heaven, and became a part of eternity. Any Angel with access to Heaven can see them, and now a certain Angel-God has returned to Heaven, for the first time in years.

**Disclaimer: **

All the characters are lent,

and I do not own a single cent.

So please don't sue,

I'm begging you!

* * *

><p>Castiel the Angel-God frowned and tilted his head. He was used to listening to billions of voices, all over the world, sorting through them and shutting them out when needed. A few million new voices shouldn't have been a problem, but these new voices were horrific. He had tried to shut them up, tried to shush them, but they were vicious and ungrateful and their voices tore at his attention. And even worse, their presence burned his grace. He hadn't anticipated that it would be such a trail, that he would become so weary. This new power was supposed to make him magnificent. Instead he felt filthy.<p>

He felt so filthy in fact that he didn't even want to go back to his green garden paradise. He didn't want to defile and blemish it. Instead he found himself wandering other people's heavens. It was a soothing feeling, watching happiness and peace when his insides were screaming.

Once in a while he would stumble across the heaven of someone he had met on earth, and it always made him recoil; He made an effort never to be seen, never to make his presence known, when he wandered into someone's heaven, but somehow he got the feeling that the human soul knew he was there, it was like his presence tainted their heaven. He didn't want to risk tainting or disturbing the heavens of those humans he had known. He felt they deserved better, for putting up with him.

One day Castiel stumbled into a heaven, that seemed familiar, seemed almost to be expecting him, welcoming him. But the heaven was empty.

For a fraction of a second he wondered why a heaven would be here, unused. The next fraction af a second he knew the answer.

Personal heavens were made up of memories, strong happy memories, and were activated the instance a human soul entered past the gates of Heaven and then added here for eternity. The only reason a heaven would be here, idle, was if the soul had been returned to it's body. And a soul being ripped out of Heaven were even more rare than a soul being retrieved from Hell.

Castiel knew only two souls that had tried both. But wandering around in the big house, seeing sun streaming through the windows and mentally tasting the calm happiness that soaked this heaven, he had no doubts who's heaven he was in.

"Dean." He whispered the name like a soft prayer. The name felt strange on hip lips, alien. He hadn't let himself even _think_ the name for so long.

He had never been here, in Dean's heaven. He hadn't seen any of the memories that was Dean's most precious moments; Dean had been sent to heaven after Castiel had been banished.

Castiel let himself feel the memory. It was intimate and familiar, even if he's never seen it before. And just then he became curious. What other heavens did Dean have? What happy moments were here, empty, waiting for Dean's soul to return?

Castiel lets his awareness stretch, expanding out and gathering the memories, the heavens he could feel belong to Dean. And just like blinking his eyes he stepped from one into another.

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><p>Since the New Beginning Castiel has had a hard time remembering. Especially his memories from his time on earth, where everything was so dark. His old memories from heaven is easier to recall, all the bright light makes everything stand out, beautiful and sharp. But even though Castiel has a hard time recalling his brief time banished from Heaven, he remembers this day.<p>

What is easiest to recall is the feelings connected to the day, and there were many. Every emotion Castiel could remember ever having felt, he could link to that day. Joy, stands out. And another feeling he can't quite word, but it has to do with feeling safe and content. And he also remembers fear.

Castiel was a soldier. He had seen war since he was first created, had fought horrific battles and fought his way into Hell. But he had never felt sheer terror until that day, the day when Dean took him to that den of iniquity.

This little part of Dean's heaven isn't that memory though. It's later that night.

Dean and Castiel had parked the Impala on a rest stop, front of the car facing over a low woodland, stretching out for miles and miles, as far as a human could see. The two of them were sitting on the hood, like Dean and Sam had done so many times, and Castiel had been feeling almost honored to be allowed to take Sam's spot.

Now Castiel stands here, looking at the Impala and at the memory of himself, sitting alone on the hood of the car, because Dean's soul isn't here to take part in the reminiscence. He watches the memory play itself out for a few moments, then he walks over to the car taking the empty spot where Dean should have been.

"Cas, you know what?." Castiel begins, echoing what Dean had said that night. "I've been thinking, you know, about this whole apocalypse thing." He held his breath and saw the memory of himself lift it's head to look at where Dean's face had been. "If we win this, and I'm not saying we have a snowball's chance, but if we for some reason manage to save the world, what are you gonna do then?"

The memory of Castiel takes a few seconds to process, frowning. "In this unlikely scenario of yours, am I still banished from Heaven?"

"Yes." Castiel whispers, even though Dean had answered "No." It doesn't matter, really. Castiel's answer wouldn't have changed either way.

The memory of Castiel gives Dean a small, but genuine smile. "I think I would like to try having a night off again. Like tonight." Memory-Castiel looks thoughtful. "I know you can't understand what it's like to be an Angel, Dean, but everything we see, hear and feel is so much more than what humans experience. Did you know Angels can taste a sunset?"

Memory-Castiel looks to Dean that isn't there, and Angel-God Castiel looks back at his own face, no Jimmy's face, how Dean sees him.

"Really?" Castiel continue to echo Dean's missing side of the conversation. He can feel a lump rising in his throat. He swallows.

"Yes." Memory-Castiel continues. "And the night too. Angels are very sensitive to nature, because we're so close to it. But it's different from Angel to Angel what force of nature we're closest to. Some like the raging powers of the ocean, some a soft summer rain." Memory-Castiel frowns. "I've been told Lucifer loved the stars most."

Castiel remembers clearly what Dean asks next, but he doesn't have the mental strength to voice it now. _What's your favorite_?

He holds his breath, and waits for Memory-Castiel to answer the question.

"I love the wind." Memory-Castiel whispers. "It's the most powerful force I've ever known, beside God. And it can also be the most gentle."

_I can see that_, is what Dean would have said. _Like a soft, warm breeze._

Memory-Castiel smiles because Dean understands. "Exactly. I love feeling the wind caressing my wings when I fly."

The Angel-God Castiel smiles a sad smile. Dean had cringed at that, at Castiel's choice of words. But the curiosity on his face had been unambiguous. He had asked Castiel what it felt like to fly, and Castiel hadn't been able to give him an answer, other than what Jimmy had once said, that it was like a comet flying across the skies. And then Dean had asked if he would ever be able to see Castiel's wings.

The Angel-God closed his eyes. The feelings that Castiel connected to this moment, when he looked back at it, was so happy. Castiel remembered feeling that strange feeling, the one he couldn't quite word. But now, watching this memory in Dean's heaven, Castiel felt nothing but pain and grief.

He watched the memory of himself slowly get off the car and focus. He knew, that in a minute or so, his wings would unfold and manifest on a plane that Dean's human eyes would be able to see. He knew that Dean, if his soul were here to play along, would slide off the car with reverence in his eyes, and move slowly to touch one of the out-stretched wings.

But Castiel didn't want to stay here, he didn't want to see the Memory-Castiel betray himself so completely, with that serene and elated look on his face.

Next moment the Angel-God is back in the silent, but pleasant surroundings of Dean's childhood home. Castiel hadn't let himself think of Dean for so long. He hadn't expected to find himself there in Dean's heaven. He hadn't expected to find that memory as one of Dean's happiest and fondest moments

Slowly he flexes his wings. The muscles are tense and restless. It's been so long since he last flew, since he last permitted himself to leave Heaven.

A soft warm breeze, brushing his wings like a soft endearment. That's how it feels to fly, but he hadn't wanted to tell Dean. He hadn't wanted to admit just how sensitive his wings were. Because flying is nothing compared to what Castiel felt when Dean gently and full of devoted veneration reached out and touched his angelic wings.

For the first time since the New Beginning, the voices in Castiel's head were dead silent.

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><p>AN: English is my second language and I don't have a beta. As a consequence some grammar mistakes and misspelling will occure.

I don't know if I managed to make it too confusing in Dean's little Heaven, with two Castiels "talking" to eachother. Comments?

Also I don't really find the ending good enough; I like them heartbreaking. So I might extend it a bit to show Dean's take on that memory, and why it was so special to him

Please use the Review option.

* * *

><p>Oh, and I solemly swear to go down with the ship. There you go.<p>

If you too are willing to pledge yourself to the Destiel ship, then do it loud and proud.


	5. Hurting

**Notice**: This is a gathering of Oneshots about Castiel and Dean. They do not depend on eachother and is meant to be read individually.

* * *

><p><strong>Hurting like a human should.<strong>

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><p><strong>Summery<strong>: Short oneshot from Dean's pov about why things broke.

**Disclaimer**:

All the charactors are lent,

and I do not own a single cent.

So please don't sue,

I'm begging you!

* * *

><p>Pride led us here.<p>

It might sound like a crappy explanation, but I don't care. It's the truth.

You were too proud to come to me, too proud to ask for my help. I'm sure you thought you were protecting me, you thought you were keeping me safe and happy. You assumed that I could go on living a normal life, that I didn't want you around. Cas, how could you be so stupid? I didn't need the happily ever after, I needed you. I had lost my brother, lost my purpose, and then you were suddenly MIA too.

Your greatest flaw was always that you were a martyr. You thought you should carry the weight of the world alone, but you should have asked for my help, goddammit. You should have taken more time off from Heaven to come see me, so you could have stayed human. I needed your company just like you needed mine.

But you were not the only one guilty of pride.

I never told you that I loved you, that you were important to me. Hell, I couldn't tell you that I was lonely when you were gone. My pride wouldn't let me. I didn't want to rely on you the way I'd begon to. I didn't like that part of my happyness was tied to you. It made me... _uneasy_. But maybe, if you had known that I would gladly lie down my life for you, that you had become as close to me as Sam was, perhaps then you wouldn't have acted like a conscienceless prat.

You said you did this for me? But how can I be happy with you like this? With the real Cas gone? I tried to tell you, in my own way. Tried to make you understand, but you were dead set on following thrugh with your idiotic plan. I should have forgotten my pride, I should have pulled you into a tight hug and begged you to stay. But of course I didn't. I didn't do _everything_ I could have to convince you. Perhaps the making of the Monster-Cas is all my doing...

Even now I can't bring myself to blame you. Because I do remember what you did for me, Cas. I remember how you turned on your family and walked away from everything you knew. How you gave up your angelic life and peace of mind for me.

I remember you dying for me. I remember the two times you sacrifised yourself, stood up against your brothers, just to be splattered like a bug.

And I remember the look in your eyes, your _human_ eyes, as you held that gun in your hand, readying yourself for yet another self-sacrifice on my behalf. Of course that future never happened, but I still remember. You knew as well as I that you were going to die for me. And I'll never forget.

I don't think I ever thanked you for that, shit I don't think I ever really thanked you for anything. You deserve so much more than I gave you.

So this time I won't be weak, this time I'll do everything I possibly can, even if it means giving up my pride. I'll save you Cas, I'll fight for you, I'll bring you back.

After everything I've been thrugh, how can I not believe in redemption?

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><p>AN: English is my second language and I don't have a beta. As a consequence some grammar mistakes and misspelling will occure.


	6. Freedom or Peace

**Notice**: This is a gathering of Oneshots about Castiel and Dean. They do not depend on eachother and is meant to be read individually.

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><p><strong>Peace or freedom?<strong>

Summery: Castiel killed Balthazar and Rachel for working against him. But Dean can curse at Castiel, call him a child and plot against him, whitout Castiel raising a finger against him. Why? Because Castiel loves him. He loves him more than he ever loved anything, perhaps even more than he's ever loved God. Oneshot.

* * *

><p>Disclaimer:<p>

All the charactors are lent,

and I do not own a single cent.

So please don't sue,

I'm begging you!

* * *

><p>Castiel's eyes slowly scanned the faces of the angels in front of him. Brothers, sisters that he had known for millennia, whom he had loved and respected, fought along side, risked his life for and shared moments of brief happiness with. Now they felt like strangers.<p>

The angel-god didn't have to kill as many of his fellow angels as he had feared. Most of them could swear that they only followed Rafael out of fear and that they had thought to be loyalty to God, and Castiel could see the honesty in their hearts. But still Castiel felt exposed and betrayed, and he was getting more and more paranoid.

More than once he had found himself thinking of the simple friendship he had shared with Dean and Sam. Human emotions was still strange to him, and the new power that rushed through his vessel made him even more immune to feelings and emotions. But he remembered feeling happy, he remembered feeling accepted, and he remembered feeling loved.

With a weary sigh Castiel dismissed the angels, but didn't move once he was alone. He just remained motionless, staring out into nothing, but seeing everything.

An angel didn't need to rest or even sit down. He could stand for days, years in fact, just letting his mental eyes scan the world for any immediate danger, without feeling any sign of being tired. That had been his job for hundreds of years before he was assigned to Dean.

When he was around the Winchesters he usually sat out of courtesy, or to mimic their behavior, to make them more comfortable around him.

He didn't stay in the white room for long, though. Once he was sure his angels was safe he spread his wings and left Heaven.

To humans he would appear to step out of nowhere, but he actually did fly. The wings weren't just a show piece. When he spread them and flexed his muscles to fly, it was like no other feeling Castiel had ever known, complete and utter freedom. He had once heard Jimmy describing it like being strapped to a comet, and Castiel had liked the metaphor.

Before he knew it, he was standing in a room with pale blue walls. He didn't know the room, but it was home.

It was easy to steal a few minutes away from Heaven to watch the Winchester brothers sleep. He had done it many times while he had been exiled, and still found it soothing and interesting.

Sam was always serene. His face was peaceful and reminded Castiel of an innocent child.

Dean was... Different. His face was never peaceful and his body would often stir.

Castiel's eyes lingered on Dean's face, and he wondered for a second what the man was dreaming. He considered spying on his dreams, but decided against it. Dean didn't like it.

Castiel didn't know why he still cared about how Dean felt, why he considered the feelings of a man who had betrayed him so completely. He couldn't explain why he still came here, why he spent nights hovering over a man, who had spat right in his face.

All Castiel knew was, that there were no place he would rather be.

He had lost so many friends, old friends, brothers and sisters that he had sworn his life to protect. Some of them he had even killed himself. Some of them he had killed to keep Dean safe.

The angel-god cringed. Yes, he had done things he regretted. Balthazar, Rachel, he had loved them. Among all the angel casualties the war had claimed, those were the two he regretted losing the most, and they had died by his hand. Castiel raised his hand and looked at the palm, almost expecting to see the blood of his family there, but of course it was spotless.

But although he regretted the deaths of Baltazar and Rachel, even the deaths of his older brothers, he couldn't really find true remorse. They had died for their lack of faith, for their betrayal.

Castiel looked at the sleeping Dean and let his angel senses feel around him. He attuned his breath to Dean's and let his and Jimmy's heart vibrate at the same pace as Dean's. It was an almost therapeutic feeling.

He had always felt connected to Dean, ever since he raised him from hell. He had been warned by his older brothers. Not many angels had raised humans from perdition, and those who had, had found it to be a changing experience. The other angels had been aware of this and noticed the changes in Castiel before he had even been aware of them himself.

But Castiel had ignored their warnings. He was already lost to their words of caution.

Rachel had taken Castiel's hand once, and looked him in the eyes and asked him why he acted like the human's pet. Castiel hadn't seen it that way. Dean was his friend.

But as time passed Castiel started to question the bond himself, and when he had killed Balthazar for betraying him, but still protected Dean Winchester even though he had been the one to corrupt his brother, Castiel had gotten scared.

He had always come to Dean when he called, he had fought tooth and claw for Dean. Held him alive, perched on his shoulder, even in times when he had more important things to take care of. And Dean had betrayed him. And still Castiel found himself compelled to stand here and watch the man sleep, night after night.

A partial of a second Castiel thought about killing Dean himself.

What had happened to him? How had he become the guardian angel of a man who hated him, who feared him?

Castiel didn't have the answer. All he knew was that he still loved the human. Dean had caused a greater change in Castiel than anyone else. No angel had ever been changed so completely by one man. Dean had shown Castiel what it meant to be merciful, to be ruthless and compassionate at the same time. He had shaped Castiel into everything he was today.

How could he ever resent Dean, no matter what he had done, when it was Dean who freed him to begin with?

Castiel could have given up a million of times, he could have let the world end, he could have let apocalypse happen, but he hadn't. He had fought to every last breath, to save humanity. To save Dean.

Castiel didn't know if this was the will of God. God hadn't answered him. So in the end Castiel had given up on God, just like all of his brothers and sisters. In the end Castiel had faced death and exile and the raging powers of purgatory for Dean's sake alone.

And now here he stood, Dean's new enemie.

What had he done?

* * *

><p>AN: English is my second language and I don't have a beta. As a consequence some grammar mistakes and misspelling will occure. Please use the review option

I couldn't resist adding the chorus of _I'm in here _by Sia, as this song was playing on repeat as I wrote this.

Can't you hear my call?  
>Are you coming to get me now?<br>I've been waiting for  
>You to come rescue me.<br>I need you to hold  
>All of the sadness I cannot<br>Live with inside of me.


	7. I Want All The Feelings

**Notice**: This is a gathering of Oneshots about Castiel and Dean. They do not depend on eachother and is meant to be read individually.

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Title: <strong>**I want All The Feelings

* * *

><p>Castiel draws a deep breath, feeling the air in his lungs like a burden. A painful one. Or perhaps the pain is just in his chest and not in his lungs, it's hard to tell; he's not used to paying attention to his vessel, all the little quirks and oddities. But he feels them now. Blood pounding with a steady rhythm, even if it is much quicker now, he notices, too fast almost. Is it supposed to rush through so fast? And his stomach is clenching up, even though he's been eating like Dean taught him last time he was human. And he feels dizzy too, even with all the time he wastes these days just sleeping. It's such an infuriating waste. But in the end Castiel assumes that none of this is normal bodily behavior. In the end it all comes down to the man standing in front of him in the doorway, his face a mirror of the same things that Castiel feels at that moment.<p>

And Dean looks at him with eyes so full of emotion. If it is joy or pain or forgiveness or blame, Castiel isn't able to say. He doesn't know those feelings well enough, is still confused by them when it's himself feeling them; he doesn't have the experience to interpret other people's emotion yet.

Dean is still standing there, face frozen in an emotion Castiel thinks is surprise, but bad surprise; he sees pain there. Pain he knows well enough. And just then Castiel regrets coming, thinks that perhaps it was too soon. But then Dean breaks out of his trance, and hands, arms are pulling Castiel into an embrace.

"Cas?" Dean's voice is hoarse, broken and Castiel pulls back to check if the other man is hurt, but Dean seems uninjured.

"Yes, it's really me, Dean." Castiel keeps his left hand on Dean's upper arm, and in response, Dean's right hand is clenching Castiel's arm, fingers digging into soft muscle. "But a shifter would say the same. Or a Demon. You should have checked before exposing yourself like that."

Dean is confused, but then he smiles, unwillingly it seems, because he tries to hide it, tries to make it go away, but he isn't doing such a good job of it, Castiel thinks. But it's okay, because Dean's smile makes Castiel smile and it feels so nice to smile again. Smiling was something he remembers doing with Dean. And then Dean isn't smiling anymore, instead the pain is back.

"Cas? You were dead, you were gone."

"I was, for a while." Castiel admits, stepping backwards, but Dean doesn't let go of his arm. "But apparently you didn't want me dead, so I was brought back. Again."

Dean is quiet, but it's not the dazed silence like before, it's a pensive silence, absorbed. "The hand…print?" He asks, hand slowly moving to rest over the scar on his shoulder.

"Is linking my grace to your soul. As long as you want me around I'll continue to _be_." Castiel tries to explain, but it's hard, these are things he's only ever speculated about earlier. He's not sure he can give Dean a better answer, but luckily Dean isn't looking for insightful enlightenments.

"So _I_ brought you back? How? Why now?"

"Actually I was revived little over four months ago. I can't really explain to you the mechanics of the process…"

Dean is pulling away, fast and rough and Castiel is caught off guard. "Four months?"

When Castiel doesn't answer Dean continues in the same strained voice. "What the hell have you been doing for four months? Angel business?"

Castiel raises an eyebrow. He finally understands what Dean is mad about. "Dean, I'm not an Angel anymore."

Dean looks surprised, and then sad and then something else. There's always this emotion, one explicit emotion that Dean sometimes shows, that Castiel hasn't learned to interpret yet. "Why didn't you come back? Why didn't you… You left me, again." The last isn't even spoken out loud; it's a whisper melting into a move of lips.

Castiel winches. He had expected Dean to go down that road, he had expected the blame. But he will never get used to it. "I didn't want to come back before I had fixed myself, before I was able to redeem myself. I didn't want to be a burden."

Dean laughs a small, insecure laugh, but his face is still sad. "A burden? Cas you're such a child. You'll never be a burden to us." He steps forward, grapping Castiel's arms again, grip tight, getting tighter. "God, I've been absolutely ruined! You were gone, man." His arm slips lower, hands resting on Castiel's wrists. "I've missed you so much, we all have. God, I thought you were dead."

"I'm here Dean." Castiel ensures, but Dean doesn't seem to believe him. "I'm a squishy mortal human now, with no education except for being a warrior, no money and no possessions to my name, but I'm here."

"You always did know how to look at the bright sides of life." Dean whispers, moving closer and Castiel can feel the shift in the air, a change in Dean's mood.

"Well I learned the negative emotions faster." Castiel admits and almost smile as Dean tugs his hand, dragging him inside the empty motel room.

"I'll teach you some of the happier ones." Dean mumbles, smile on his face and Castiel follows easily, closing the door behind them.


	8. The Angel and The Hunter

**Notice**: This is a gathering of Oneshots about Castiel and Dean. They do not depend on eachother and is meant to be read individually

* * *

><p><strong>Title<strong>: The Angel and The Hunter

**Disclaimer**: I don't own an Angel or a Hunter, nor do I own any epic romances that might be between them.

* * *

><p>The Hunter watches wide eyed and breathless as a set of midnight blue wings unfolds in front of him, wrapping possessively around him and shielding him from the incoming demons. Even in their smoke form they can easily kill a man; the shear force of the impact is enough to send you down for the count, the Hunter knew this from experience.<p>

But they cannot penetrate the energy field that is an Angel's wings, cannot even stand to be close to such pure power, so the demons circle the man and the Angel for a few seconds before giving up; this wasn't their mission anyway. And they rush away, wailing and shrieking following in their wake.

The Angel waits another heartbeat before lowering its wings, keeping them out, visible, ready.

"That was too close." The Hunter points out, stepping away from the Angel, but keeping his eyes on the winged creature. "I guess they had other dinner plans, or they wouldn't have given up so quickly."

"They were outnumbered anyway." The Angel's voice is calm, but its brow is creased, face concerned. "I could have burned them, but not without exposing you. I didn't want to run the risk."

"Yeah, well thanks for the notion." The Hunter jokes, crooked smile and a gleam in his eyes. "So anyway. This Vampire nest, can you burn them out?"

The Angel shakes its head, eyes darting to the darkening night sky. "They have efficiently warded the entire forest. I can't even follow you in there."

The Hunter shrugs. It's nothing new; he's been hunting alone before. "I'll just do laps; take them out when they expose themselves to feed."

A sudden noise makes the Hunter jerk and turn to look into the darkness between the threes. The Angel's wings are flaring out in a warningly and aggressive gesture, but there is nothing there. Whatever had moved in the forest had moved fast.

"I'll bring us back to your motel." The Angel says quietly, pulling the dark wings close to its body. "You're not going in there tonight."

"That's for me to decide." The Hunter complains, but the Angel is already reaching up to touch the Hunter's forehead, vanishing its wings in the process. And then the odd couple is gone, and the night is quiet.

And to anyone who might have been hiding away in the darkness, watching this short display, they might have thought they had witnessed something spectacular, something astonishing and miraculous. But you would have to have been watching pretty closely to have seen what was truly spectacular: two sets of intense eyes interlocking, marveling in each other's unspoken emotions; fingers brushing gently against feathers, finding secret spots of pleasure at any given chance; lips holding back to keep from saying concerned and caring words.

That was the things that was truly amazing, that was the real wonder of the Angel and the Hunter.

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><p>AN: Sorry for the spamming of short updates and additions these days. I just have alot of ideas that needs to be written.


	9. Nothing

**Notice**: This is a gathering of Oneshots about Castiel and Dean. They do not depend on eachother and is meant to be read individually.

* * *

><p><strong><strong>Title: <strong>**Nothing

**Disclaimer**:

All the charactors are lent,

and I do not own a single cent.

So please don't sue,

I'm begging you!

* * *

><p>It was one of those days, one of those <em>perfect<em> days that would later disappear in the madness of saving people and hunting things. Dean and Sam and Cas, Team Free Will, two brothers and a fallen Angel, were parked at an empty truck stop, the Impala facing a vast woodland disappearing in a display of pink, orange and pale blue around the setting sun.

The beer was cold, or tempered at least, the weather was warm for that time of the year and the three men were spent after a long hunt. Muscles were acing pleasantly, heads buzzing from the earlier adrenalin rush, and hearts content with how simple and good life could be, even here, in the middle of a broken world, falling to pieces around them, heading for the apocalypse. But just now, just for this one perfect day, the world wasn't ending and the three men weren't carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Dean was on the hood, ankles crossed, beer resting on his thigh. Sam was leaned against the left side of the car, beer dangling from one hand by the neck, eyes scanning the top of the woods as the light dimmed and the air cooled. Cas was standing a few feet to the right, feet firmly planted, trench coat and jacket off for this one magic night, his white shirt sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He too was holding a beer, but more out of courtesy than anything else.

"This is what it's like being human?" Castiel's deep voice breaks the silence, but it's not intruding; Castiel's voice is just as much part of the night as the crickets and the leaves rustling in the soft breeze.

Sam just smiles; this is one of the things he leaves to Dean. Dean looks up, eyes finding Castiel's in the dimming light as if they were homing beacons. "Some of the time, I guess. I mean, how the hell would we know?" There's a smile in his voice, and it's soft and teasing, not bitter like the smiles on his face usually are these days. And there's an afterthought to his expression, a lingering thought that he keeps unspoken.

"I don't think that anymore," Castiel says, eyes leaving Dean's and tracing distant stars instead, as if they are the only replacement he can find. Sam looks to Dean, who looks as if he's been kicked in the gut. Castiel doesn't turn to see Dean's expression, but continues his little musing. "That they are a better club."

And as for explanations it's a pretty bad one, Sam thinks, but Dean seems to get it, seems to be overwhelmed by it even, because his eyes lock on Castiel's back, hands clenching the beer for dear life and shoulders going tense.

And that's then Dean wakes, eyes blind in the darkness of the motel room, a sentence lingering in his ears, in his head: "_You'll always belong to a better club, Cas. You always did. Humanity didn't change that. Nothing would ever change that."_

And Dean is not sure, is never sure, if he said those words or if his subconscious mind has added them later. But he means them; he means them like no other words in the world. With a long exhale he lays his head back down, resting it on the pliable fabric of the trench coat.


	10. Rhythm of the War Drums

**Notice**: This is a gathering of Oneshots about Castiel and Dean. They do not depend on eachother and is meant to be read individually.

* * *

><p><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>

All the characters are lent,

and I do not own a single cent.

So please don't sue,

I'm begging you!

**Extra disclaimer**: I also don't own the song lyrics at the end. "Count the bodies like sheep to the rhythm of the war drums" by A Perfect Circle.

**Summery**: Dean is the master of pain and torture, and when Castiel comes to Dean and asks him to torture an Angel, Dean has to consider if there are different kinds of torture. **Rating**: NC-17. ~1.600 words  
><strong>Warnings<strong>: Dark Angst, Slight Dub-Con, Mention of Torture.

* * *

><p>No human alive knew Pain the way Dean Winchester did. He knew Pain like an old friend, knew how to survive it and knew how to cause it. And he was so damn good at it. The way he had been good at sex, the way he had been good at denial, the way he had been good at lying. Only this, this was a whole new level of talent.<p>

Sometimes he would drift off, remembering his time in the Pit. He didn't even have to wait for the nightmares to come, the images in his head was clear and vivid and so painfully real, even in the sunshine. He could see the faceless souls writhe and toss beneath him, faceless because he had made them that way, because that was always the first thing he did. He could hear their screams echo in his ears, in his head, no matter how high he cranked the music up in the car.

But most of the time Dean could distance himself from Pain. On most days he didn't even think about his time in Hell; it was just a dull memory, somewhere in the darkest parts of _I-don't-want-to-remember-this-ever-again_, buried way beneath the times Sam ran away, beneath the memory of his mother burning on the ceiling of his babyborther's room, beneath the self-loating future-self using Castiel as a pawn.

Not surprisingly the moments he didn't want to ever remember again also included the time he had to tell Sam about Hell, and the time Castiel told him he had to torture Alastair for information.

The first was an obvious. He hated the thought of Sam knowing what he had done, what he had become, how low his big brother had sunk. Sam was good. He was innocent and decent and just... _good_. Dean knew that Sam would never be able to look up to his brother again, and looking back, Dean knew that this was what had broken them apart.

The second took some time to settle. At first Dean had thought he would relapse back into a monster as soon as he let himself. But torturing Alastair proved not only to be easy, but also gratifying. This wasn't a lost soul in front of him, although he might have been once, before he became a demon, and Dean wasn't slicing him to pieces in cold blood. He was getting revenge.

But the memory didn't settle into the `worst ever´ category untill later. Not untill he got to know Castiel. Until he came to respect him, not as a divine being, but as a friend. Not until the day that Dean found himself caring what Castiel thought about him.

And how could he not care? Cas had given so much, sacrificed all he was and everything he had, right down to his dignity and life, because he thought Dean was a fucking wonderchild. And Dean couldn't let Cas down. He had done it once, when the Apocalypse hit, and the look of contempt, the raw aversion in his voice, was something Dean didn't want to be the cause of or in the receiving end of ever again.

So when Castiel appeared in Dean's room one day, eyes hard and voice soft, asking Dean to torture again, Dean didn't know what to answer.

Instead Dean's body reacted before his brain had even caught up. He was off his chair and had Castiel pushed against the baby-blue wall before he even knew what he was doing, knew where he got the _nerve_. Castiel wasn't human, he wasn't Future Cas, high and wasted. Castiel, now pressed hard against the wall, was an Angel. Castiel didn't have to let Dean do anything to him. And still he allowed this, face expressionless and eyes calm. For some reason that just pissed Dean off even more.

He held Castiel by the collar of his shirt, pressing him to the wall with a fist against his throat and an elbow to the chest. "You have to be fucking kiddin' me!" It wasn't a question and Castiel didn't treat it as one, not even when Dean shook the Angel roughly.

A small spark of defiance woke in Castiel's eyes, but that was as much of a change that Dean could force from him.

"We wouldn't ask if we had other options, Dean. You know that." The Angel tried hesitantly, but didn't move to disentangle himself from Dean. "_I _would never ask if..." For some reason the Angel didn't finish.

Dean knew his face must be full of pain, if it was any reflection of what he felt, at any rate. Perhaps that's what made Castiel shut his mouth. "_Damn it,_ _Cas_." Dean whispered and felt the change from pain to anger come instantly. This was how it was to be Dean. Pain could be controlled. He loosened the grip on Castiel and left the Angel standing against the wall, walking over to the fridge to get a beer. He drank slowly, feeling the coolness ease the heat inside of him.

"So who is this demon I'm ripping to shreds, if I may ask?" Dean finally said, back still turned, eyes fixed on the drops forming on his beer. He heard Castiel move behind him nervously, feet shuffling in a very un-angelic way.

"It's not a demon." Castiel admitted, voice low and rough. "His name is Focalor. He's an Angel of the Lord. Or he was, on any account."

Dean turned his head to look at Castiel, so fast that he almost hurt his neck. "Excuse me?"

Castiel didn't respond and Dean just kept staring. "You want me to torture an _Angel_? You can't be serious."

"Dean..."

"No hold on, Cas. Apart from the fact that it can't be done, not by a _man_ at least, I would be heading straight back to Hell, you know that, right?"

"He's Fallen, Dean. You won't be at blame, not like that." Castiel began, but his words fell flat. Castiel knew that it didn't matter if Heaven wouldn't hold Dean responsible. Dean would hold himself responsible. That was what the man was best at anyway, blaming himself. "We'll set up a room. It will suppress his powers." Castiel continued after the short pause.

Dean raised an eyebrow. "He has powers? I thought you said he was Fallen."

"Not Fallen like Anna. He was cast down, like Lucifer, for betrayal. His powers still remaines intact. But there are ways to suppress an Angel's powers, so you would be safe."

"That's what you said the last time." Dean regretted the words even as they were leaving his mouth. The pained look in Castiel's eyes was almost as hard to watch as the contempt. "Wouldn't it be safer to remove his Grace?"

"If you wouldn't object to torturing an infant for information." Castiel returned, and Dean knew the words were only so jabbing and cold because Castiel felt hurt. No Angel would ever allow such a thing, especially not Castiel.

Dean never gave Castiel a final answer. He didn't have to. Castiel would never make demands and Dean would never turn Castiel down. It was a synergy that had started before Dean was even consciously aware of it.

* * *

><p>The room was bright and sterile, reminded Dean of the interrogation cells he had seen in si-fi movies. In the middle of the room there was a single wooden chair. The girl sitting on it was beautiful, delicate features and honey blond hair. Dean raised his eyebrows and turned to look at Castiel. "This is him?"<p>

"An illusion." Castiel assured. "So is the room and the chair."

"Why?" Dean didn't know why he asked. He didn't care much either way.

Castiel still answered. "He doesn't have a vessel. We had to manipulate the room to protect you."

"From his true form." Dean nodded. He got it. He'd burn to ashes, most likely, if he looked at an Angel's true form. The Angels had been working some serious magic, it seemed.

"The girl is his own choice though. I should warn you, he might change. He can take any form he whishes."

Dean just nodded unaffected. He had questioned shape shifters before, stabbed a knife deep into Sam's leg and twisted it slowly as the creature screamed in his brothers broken voice. Not even pretty little girls was a new one. Dean had tortured those before, even in Hell.

Dean stepped into the room and felt the Angel's attention fall on him, even if the girl didn't look up.

"Dean Winchester." The voice was soft, gentle and earnest. No fear, just playfulness. "I heard you were coming, but I couldn't believe it." The girl finaly raised her head and caught his eyes, blue and clear and filled with a fear, unattached from her voice, and when Dean finaly realized who's eyes he was looking into, the rest of the Angel had changed and he was standing infront of Castiel.

Dean frowned. He hadn't expected this. His father, yes. Sam, for damn sure. Maybe even his mother, hell, maybe even himself. He hadn't expected this at all.

"You know what all the Angels talk about, right?" Focalor said in Castiel's voice, or Jimmy's voice, softer, higher pitched. "About the Angel and the Man and the sin of their relationship."

Dean just smiled. "No, tell me."

"How the Angel chose to follow the Man, how he died to protect him, more than once, how he let himself become powerless and sullied, because he believed in a Man." Focalor's lips twitched, trying not to smile. "Angels shouldn't be loyal to Man. Only to God."

"You preach alot for a disloyal betrayer." Dean said, as he began to circle the chair.

"I am loyal to God!" Focalor all but laughed and suddenly Dean could place the voice. It was Future Cas, voice free of Angel-rumble but still harsh from trying to phonate the Angel's true voice. In Dean's head, this was Castiel at his weakest. He swallowed and found his poker face, a mask of pure and carefree amusement. "Perhaps the man was worthy of loyalty."

"Don't flatter yourself, Dean. You know as well as I that you are a monster. Perhaps God will keep forgiving Castiel for his weakness, but Heaven won't. One day you'll be gone and then the poor Angel will be alone for all eternity, shone by his brothers, an outcast, a pariah. And just think, you did that to him. Because you are a selfish monster."

"You know what?" Dean said, still acting unaffected. "You sound just like a demon." He circled the chair, stopping behind it, one hand touching the air where he knew the wings to be, the other hand reaching slowly behind his back to draw out the Angel Blade. "And you know what else? I'm gonna cut you to pieces like one too."

* * *

><p>Castiel stood at the door, just outside, looking in on Dean, sitting against the back wall, knees drawn up to his chest. He was looking intently at the bloodied Angel Blade, streaks of blood across his face, stains on his thighs, where he had tried to wipe the blood off his hands against the denim.<p>

Castiel waited for Dean to get up and come out, but as the minutes passed into hours and the hunter still hadn't moved, Castiel started to argue with himself about whether or not he should step into the room, and drag Dean out himself. But he hesitated. He could feel the magic of the room, the sigils and blood spells that would take away all angelic powers the second he crossed the treshold.

But it was just Dean inside, and Castiel didn't fear him, even at his darkest. So in the end the Angel stepped into the room and crossed the floor to sit beside Dean.

"Thank you." Castiel hesitated, wondered if those were the right words to use. Dean didn't seem to care. He knew what Castiel meant.

"You know," Dean started in a rough voice, almost as if he had been crying. "When Zachariah took me to 2014? Everything that I saw there? What scared me most was you."

Castiel raised his eyebrows. "I scared you?"

"Yes." Dean admitted again. "Because I did that to you, and you _let_ me."

"I don't let you do anything to me, Dean. I chose." Dean just huffed out a joyless laugh at the Angel's words.

"You have no idea how to chose, Cas. You just replaced me with God and pretend you have free will, that you don't make every decision based on how to keep me alive." Dean turned his head and looked at Castiel. The Angel looked mortified.

"That's not true, Dean." Castiel's voice was earnest, and no doubt he believed what he was saying. Dean just knew better.

"If you had any sense in your head, Cas, you wouldn't have done half the things you've done while I've known you." Dean retorted. "If you didn't follow me so blindly you might be able to see all the shit that have happend to you bacause of me. And you don't deserve any of it."

Castiel turned his face away and Dean could feel his annoyance turning into anger. "Dean you never made me do any of those things, and you can't make me do anything I don't want to."

Dean smiled, but it was a bitter smile, harsh and cold like Future Dean. Then he moved so fast that Castiel didn't even notice untill he was pinned against the wall, hips pressed against the floor as Dean weighed down on his lap, knees on each side of Castiel's legs.

Dean caught Castiel's blue eyes, calm even now, and held the gaze. "What happened when you pulled me from Hell, Cas?" Dean asked, and the calmness in Castiel's eyes flicker, doubt and fear sneaking in to take it's place. "Tell me." Dean presses, but knows it's pointless. Castiel would never tell. Instead he tries a new angle. "You know when I die, and I will, no matter how many times you save my life, you'll be all alone?"

Dean looks at Castiel's face, watches the small changes as Castiel thinks this over.

"I'm aware." Castiel just answers.

"Heaven dosn't want you, Castiel." Dean uses the whole name, fully aware that Castiel actually flinch at this. "No one wants you, not even God."

Castiel's eyes bore into Dean's, anger rising to flush his cheeks.

"Because you're a freak, Cas. Angels dosn't have free will. Angels dosn't _want_ free will." Dean watches as his words pierce the Angel beneath him, still pinned down.

"It is my choice." Castiel tries to keep his voice low, threatening. He knows he has no physical hold on Dean. Inhere he is almost human, and a weak one at that. "You didn't make me."

Dean considers if it's for his own sanity, that Castiel keeps returning to this sentence. Dean leans in, his mouth so close to Castiel's ear, that his lips touch as he moves them to speak. "If you truly have free will, Cas, then why do you continue to let me fuck you over?"

Dean dosn't draw back to see Castiel's reaction, he dosn't need to. He can hear the hitch in Castiel's breath, feel the pulse rise in his neck. "You should have killed me that day, Cas, that day in the ally. And you should have told me to go fuck myself when I asked you to disobey that day in the white room. And you should have choked me in my sleep before I broke you, and made you into a fucking dog, in that shit hole of a future."

This time Dean does draw back to look at Castiel's face. He dosn't exactly expect him to be crying, but the look of pain and betrayal on the Angel's face is pretty accurate to what he had been expecting. "But you can't can you?"

Castiel drags his eyes away from Dean's, turns his head and find a speck of blood on the wall to focus on. Dean almost smiles. Then he release one of Castiel's hands, just to lift his own to cradle Castiel's chin and force his face back.

"Kiss me." Dean says. It's low, and soft. Not even an order.

Castiel's eyes are wide when he looks at Dean. He shakes his head, but Dean know it dosn't mean no. It just takes a little time, but in the end, Castiel stretch up and press his lips to Dean's mouth, soft and dry and barely even there. Dean just smiles.

"You've got to do better than that, Angel." Dean tease, and watch as Castiel fights with himself. In the end Castiel lifts his head again and hesitantly licks his lips before pressing them to Dean's and this time his mouth stays. Even if it dosn't move. But Dean knows how to counter that. He press back into the kiss letting his tongue play across Castiel's lips, and his fingers rub against his groin. As Castiel lets out a surprised gasp, Dean slips his tongue inside the Angel's mouth, licking and tasting and fucking teasing the best he knows how to, which is pretty damn well.

When Dean breaks the kiss it's only to find his way to Castiel's ear and whisper, "I can make you do anything I want to, can't I?"

Castiel swallows, his lips swollen and his pupils blown wide, and Dean can feel him shaking lightly. "You can't make me do anything I don't want to." The Angel says, and for the first time Dean hears those words for what they really mean. And as the pain rush in over him with the realization, Dean knows that for the first time since Castiel raised him from Hell, he dosn't want to control the pain. Not even a little.

Don't fret precious I'm here

Step away from the window

Go back to sleep

Safe from pain, and truth, and choice

And other poisoned devils

See, they don't give a fuck about you

Like I do

* * *

><p>AN2: English is my second language and I don't have a beta. As a consequence some grammar mistakes and misspelling will occure. **Please use the review option**


	11. Specks of Light

**Notice**: This is a gathering of Oneshots about Castiel and Dean. They do not depend on eachother and is meant to be read individually.

* * *

><p>Dean opened his eyes and found himself on his back; blue sky with white, fluffy clouds was all he could see. A sun gleam caught his eyes and blinded him for a short moment; just long enough for him to allow himself to <em>feel<em>, noticing for the first time the ground beneath him - soft grass and sun-warm earth - and a peaceful, soothing presence all around him. Then a sudden realization made him recoil. He knew the feeling of this place; no matter what scenic environment this place would assume Dean had been here often enough to recognize the general feeling.

Heaven.

And he was utterly alone this time. No not alone. He realized with a sudden certainty that the little spark he had first assumed to be a gleam of sun had a very familiar feel to it.

And suddenly he knew what had disturbed his peace, as his soul recognized the tiny shard of Castiel's Grace.

He didn't know what he had been expecting, if he had assumed that Castiel would be standing here in Jimmy's form, waiting for him to finally enter heaven, this time for good.

But Castiel wasn't here. Not all of him, at least.

As the memory of Castiel flooded him and reminded him of moments he though he had lost, he wondered how long he had already been here. It seemed that the soothing peace in heaven was slowly erasing all the darkness, all the fear and doubt and shame and guilt. And although it felt amazing, Dean had a hard time recognizing himself with out those feelings.

Slowly Dean began to understand that it would just be a matter of time before he would no longer remember being alive, before these peaceful memories would be all he knew and remembered. Dean knew he only had so long to find Sam, to find every last atom of Castiel.

And just then he knew that he would spent every moment of that time looking for every single atom of the Angel, every last spark of his Grace. And then not even death would keep them apart, they would cling to each other and be joined so tight.

And so the last piece of consciousness that had been Dean Winchester joined the sparkling shard of Castiel's Grace and set out and his last quest under the brilliant stars, determined to find the atoms of the Angel who, had he been a human with a human soul, would have been Dean's soul mate.

Because Dean knew that soul mates rightfully belonged in the same heaven.


	12. Hiding away

**Notice**: This is a gathering of Oneshots about Castiel and Dean. They do not depend on eachother and is meant to be read individually.

* * *

><p>Summary: Dean and Castiel are stuck in the white room, after Dean has been chased down by Hell Hounds. While they are waiting for the Hounds to lose Dean's sent they get to know each other better. Set during season 4.<p>

Warnings: Mentions of hell, but other than that it's fluffy. Unbeta'ed as always.

A/N: Extra gift for Kelly(aka caswouldratherbehere over at Tumblr), to make sure she got some fluff for her b-day.

* * *

><p>Dean's biggest concern at this moment: How do you act around an angel?<p>

And when he say act, he mean play pretend. Because Dean is 99% crap and so used to wearing his mask that he's forgotten how his real face looks like. But he can't use that mask around Castiel, frigging angel of the Lord.

Because Castiel has saved him from Hell. He's seen Dean's soul, and Castiel - well, Castiel is the only one who completely disregards those 99% and sees right into that 1% of honesty and fear and emotion and pain.

So yeah, Dean kinda hates the angel for that, hates the way he pops up out of nowhere with heavenly orders for Dean. Hates the way he looks at Dean like he's sorry for the things he's asking, as if he cares, even though Dean honestly doubts the angel feels true compassion. But most of all, and most importantly, Dean hates the way that Castiel looks at him. As if that 1% that Dean hates is something beautiful and amazing and worth going to Hell and back again for.

Dean shifts in the chair and moves his arms from his lap and onto the table. Across form him Castiel shifts, just the tiniest bit, but it's still more than he's moved in the past hour.

"Are you reading my mind?" Dean asks, incredulous, eyes narrowing.

"I don't have to." Castiel answers quickly, face still expressionless.

"That's not an answer." Dean points out. There is no reaction from Castiel.

"How long are you guys gonna keep me here?" He tries again, determined to get some kind of reaction from the angel.

"Until we feel safe that the Hell Hounds have lost your trace." Castiel responds. When Dean continue to look at him, the angel sighs and continues. "It could take a few days."

"A few days, stuck here, with you?" Dean presses on, unable to keep the rising annoyance out of his voice.

"I can leave if you prefer?"

"And miss out on your enlightening and charming company? No chance in hell!" Dean says, throwing out his arms in mockery.

Across the table Castiel frowns. "I find your choice of words inappropriate and distasteful." He says, pronouncing every word clearly and mechanically.

Dean smiles. He smiles because Castiel finally offered an opinion and because he was right.

Here sits Castiel, who braved Hellfires and sulfur fumes to retrieve Dean's soul from the deepest pits of the abyss, and here sits Dean, the Righteous Man, talking about chances in hell.

Actually Dean doesn't think he ever did thank Castiel for pulling him out, not really, anyway.

"You're welcome." Castiel says, head tilting to one side and Dean knows he's being studied.

"I thought you didn't read my mind?"

"I said I didn't have to." The angel corrects aptly. "I find your thoughts... interesting."

"Interesting? That's one way of putting it, I suppose." Dean deflects easily.

"Are you ashamed?" Castiel inquires, and Dean smiles again, once more because Castiel is right in his observations and Dean instinctively wants to force the mask back on, back to cover the truth, but of cause that won't work against the angel sitting across the table.

And for a fleeting moment, Dean thinks that he doesn't even mind. There's something about the angel, something soothing and comforting. Something that makes Dean want to open up and allow himself to be seen.

"I think your soul is very beautiful." Castiel suddenly says, and Dean can feel his face redden with heat.

"Jesus. You can't just say stuff like that!" Dean complains roughly, making Castiel frown. Castiel frowning is an adorable thing, little wrinkles at the sides of his nose and eyes lined with an even deeper confusion than usually. Dean looks down at his hands.

He tries not to think about Castiel, makes himself think about Sam, who is off with Ruby, but Dean finds very quickly that if he lets his mind drift, if he doesn't focus on the present, his thoughts has a tendency to relapse back into devouring flames and piercing screams.

"It was very easy to find." Castiel's deep voice drowns out the screams at once and Dean has never been more grateful. "Your soul." The angel clarifies. "It was very bright and beautiful."

This time Dean doesn't blush. Instead he lifts his eyes, easily meeting Castiel's.

"I was expecting a soul like yours to be warped and broken, considering what you had been put through. I wasn't expecting you."

Dean doesn't know if it's an angel-thing to be this honest, or if it's simply a Castiel-thing, but he finds that he doesn't care. He's just grateful right now, that the creature in front of him seems to accept him so easily. It's such a wonderful thing.

"You're thoughts are very affectionately." Castiel interrupts, and Dean can see a small smile playing on his lips.

"Stop reading my mind!" Dean complains half-heatedly. He doesn't even attempt to keep the smile off his face.

"Your thoughts are very loud." The angel counters and Dean has to lower his eyes back on his hands to keep from grinning.

Hiding away from Hell Hounds for the next few days, might not be such a bad deal. Having your own guardian angel? Definitively a better deal than Dean had been expecting.


End file.
